The Crests United
by WingedWolf121
Summary: A tourney in honor of Queen Guinevere is being held in Camelot, and all of Albion invited, even those who have avoided the Kingdom for years. Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Salazar Slytherin and Rowena Ravenclaw enter Camelot, and are drawn into the mix of chivalry, falsehood, love and betrayal that eats at Camelot's very core. Merlin/Arthur slash
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Seriously, how are there like fifteen stories on here where Merlin goes to Hogwarts and none where he meets the Founders? (There probably are on another site, but whatever)**

**Dedication goes to Sofiajedi, because she let me bounce lame ideas off her until something vaguely not nonsensical came out of it, even though there was homework to be done.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither Merlin nor the Harry Potter series. I just have Harry Potter Wiki bookmarked and jeeeesus Season 5 I am shipping Merlin/Mordred with a fiery burning passion even though Arthur and Merlin were touching butts. Also what possessed Merlin to leave Aithusa with Morgana (who has gone batshit crazier and I am sorry but she would make the actual worst Queen at this point she has no control over her emotions also still not over Merlin/Mordred) and also Arthur is his own downfall which is fascinating and I have so many thoughts and also I don't own this show which is what I originally meant to say. Oh right also none of my friends watch this show and my lack of understanding rant partners is ruining my life because goddammit I have so many conflicting feelings.**

**But hey, back to fic.**

The tavern on the border of Mercia and Camelot had seen some impressive clientele before. Knights commonly stopped in for a pint of ale when returning from their patrols, nobles on the way to Camelot who had ventured off the main road occasionally strayed in, and of course there was the average lot of merchants, healers and rogues who were attracted by the inn's location - not quite on the main road, but close enough to the woodland paths that quick travel could be had.

But never in all the days of the inn had it seen patrons so…_unique_, as the four currently clustered round a table in the corner.

The tallest woman, clothed in a dark blue gown of silk and matching velvet cloak, was the most striking. She was of pale skin and hair black as night, with dark eyes and a manner that dared any of the local peasantry to attempt conversation. She sipped at a cup of wine, the cleanest in the tavern.

The other woman, who sat beside her, was less intimidating. She was clad in pretty yellow cotton, more practical for traveling, and had bright blue eyes that sparkled with hidden laughter. Her hair, all curls of auburn-streaked blonde, fell freely down her back, unlike her companion's tightly braided locks. She had less fear of lice, despite the conditions. She drank mead, and looked far more amenable to being bought a drink.

But no man would attempt it, for the male companions who sat by them turned fell eyes upon any men who even glanced in the direction of the ladies. Only one wore a sword at his side - the broader chested one, a tall man with dark brown hair streaked with red. He wore red clothes and expensive leather, and had consumed more ale than all his companions combined.

Still, it was the other male whose gaze was a greater deterrent. This man had close cropped black hair and cool grey eyes, and was wrapped in a cloak of purest emerald green. He wore no sword, though the cloak covered a dagger, and his face suggested that he would sooner cut out his own tongue than speak to anyone.

No one at the tavern knew what those four discussed, only that the tall man was oft sent up to the counter for more drafts. A curious humming sound simply filled the ears of the peasants sitting close to them, one which muffled all speech.

"Come on now Salazar." The dark haired woman said, looking faintly amused as she drank. "This is a foul mood even for you."

"I mislike being in Camelot." Salazar, the man in green, grumbled. "This is folly."

"It's a new King." The yellow clothed woman protested. "Uther's dead now, and he's cold in his grave by now. And the mead's not poison, you know."

"New King, old laws." Salazar snapped back at her. "And Helga, I'll wager that you'd be just as dead if you filled that cup up yourself rather than wasting coin here than if you'd attempted it ten years ago."

"Cheer up, my friend!" The tall man said with a grin, whapping Salazar on the back. "Have some optimism! Things may work out well."

"No one asked for your drunken opinion, Godric."

"Too bad." Godric said with a grin, clearly not in the least perturbed by Salazar's sour look. "My opinion only becomes louder the more ale I've had."

"Too all of our dismay." Rowena said dryly. "Really, you do know we need to make an early start tomorrow if we're to reach Camelot before sunset?"

"I have the luck of having a most delightful friend," Godric slung an arm round Salazar's shoulders. "Who is a master of brewing the most lovely potions, and who will, if I grovel at his feet for long enough, consent to heal my head."

"Not if you keep acting like a fool." Salazar grumbled. But a smile lifted the corners of his mouth all the same.

"I'm with Godric." Helga said, taking a gulp of her mead. "This is our last night before we sup in Camelot and are forced to make awkward conversation with nobles we've not seen in years, who no doubt wonder why we've all kept politely declining the invitations Uther sends out for banquets."

"I just want to see the peasant Queen whose so captured the King's heart that he'll take her back after she betrays him on their wedding night with his own most loyal knight." Salazar said.

"You want to scope out the new King." Rowena corrected him, rolling her eyes. "The gossip is secondary."

"That hardly makes it less interesting." Salazar glanced at Godric. "You know, I believe I will have a pint of ale, in the spirit of solidarity."

"That's the spirit, my friend!" Godric whapped him on the back again, a grin firmly in place. He collected Helga's empty tankard and drained his own. "Rowena, care for a top off?"

"I plan to revel in your pain on the morrow, Godric." Rowena said.

"Suit yourself." Godric, with admirably steady steps, walked up to the counter, and smiled over it at the barmaid. "Two pints of ale, and a tankard of mead, if you will."

"Got the coin?"

"Are you that afraid of being robbed?" Godric reached into his purse. The barmaid smiled as the silver coins clinked on the table.

"Not so much nowadays, but one can never be too careful." A young boy, perhaps her own son, ran past Godric, smacking into his leg. Godric managed to keep from staggering, but the boy would have fallen on his backside if Godric didn't reach down to catch him. "_Percy!_"

"It's fine." Godric said. Despite all appearances, the man knew how to be diplomatic. "Children were born to race around knocking into things."

"I suppose." The barmaid took his coin and slid the drinks cross the counter. "Are you feeling quite right, milord? You look like you've taken a funny turn."

Godric, who looked a great deal more sober then than he'd appeared for the past hour, smiled at her. "Fine, lass."

He walked back to the table, plunking down Helga and Salazar's drinks without sitting down.

"What's wrong?" Salazar was the first to ask.

Godric lowered his voice. He could have shouted his words to the raft and the charm would have held, but it was instinct to speak quietly. "I've got to leave. If I'm not back in an hour, one of you come searching for me."

"Where are you going?" Helga asked, looking alarmed.

"The woods." Godric handed over a note, written in a flowing hand not fit for such a dirty scrap of parchment. "It seems a long distanced cousin of mine desires to see me."

* * *

The forest was never meant to be silent in the late night. There were deer hiding in the bushes who made leaves rustle, bats that fluttered round treetrops. Small woodlands creatures darted over rocks and through the trees, none of them perturbed by darkness.

As Godric walked further into the forest, they left him, until the only movement in the forest was the breeze stirring the leaves on the trees, and the faint sound of his own footsteps on the dirt. He paused just before all sound faded entirely and turned, crouching down and looking towards the forest floor.

He caught a glint of light reflecting off scales, and had to smile.

The smile faded as the breeze died. Godric drew his sword. It lit up the forest with white light, the bloodred rubies on it's hilt shining and casting an eerie glow over the clearing to which Godric had walked.

"Show yourself, cousin." He called. "Else I'll have to force you."

There was the faintest rustle, and another figure appeared. This one was smaller than Godric, and cloaked in black, only a pale white throat visible in the light. When it spoke, it was clearly a female, and one who had not had life without hardship. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use.

"You call me cousin. I confess, this surprises me."

"You are my cousin's daughter." Godric sheathed his sword. The light dimmed, until only moonlight illuminated the two of them.

"News must not have reached your corner of Cornwall." Morgana Pendragon cast back her hood, and looked upon him with a strange expression. "I thought my sire was known through all the land now."

"No, I heard that tale." Godric said. "But would Gorlois wish me to cast a girl he considered daughter from the family, simply for her mother's mistake and the lust of Uther Pendragon? No, you're of Cornwall."

"That is…stubborn, of you." Morgana said softly. "But you have my thanks."

"What purpose do you have in summoning me here?" Godric asked. He looked upon her with worry. "Do you have need of shelter, healing?"

"What did you hear of Camelot?" Morgana asked abruptly.

"I heard that you made a foolish attempt at upstaging the proper heir, and twice that same heir defeated you and cast you out." Godric said bluntly. "And I heard that you inherited the gift of magic inherent in my side of the family."

"I didn't know our bloodline cast such far reaching magical roots." Morgana confessed. "When Morgause was…when she lay dying, she told me that there were more powerful spell casters than we in Albion, but I thought that when she said the name Gryffindor that she was raving."

"I did not know Morgause." Godric said with a shrug. "Our family tree has withered in recent years. But those families with the gift do form a society of sort, and those of us with the greatest power keep in touch as best we can, as secretively as we must. And you've not answered my question."

"I summoned you here because a spy of mine saw you on the roads, and recognized your crest." Morgana said, again the strange tone to her words. "And there is nothing of import on this road but Camelot."

"You use children for spies and messengers?" Godric asked.

"They're innocent enough, and willing to carry a message for a crone." Morgana's smile was wintry. "You are headed to Camelot?"

"King Arthur is holding a tourney for his Queen." Morgana let out a breathless laugh. "What was the jest?"

"Oh, I was just reveling in a triumph over an old enemy of mine." She shook her head. "It is no matter. Camelot is not a place of safety for those with magic."

"I and my companions are not petty witches who can simply be strapped to a stake and burned." Godric informed her, not without arrogance. "We knew the law when we set out. It would be gravely rude to refuse the first summons the new King has made to his neighbors, and we wish to see if he was another Uther."

This time Morgana's laugh was ugly. "I assure you, my half brother is exactly like Uther."

"Is he?"

"He is vain and arrogant, petty and cruel, and no more tolerant of magic than his father was before him. He seeks to surround himself with fools greater even than he, acts to appease his own conscience rather than true justice." Morgana spat out her words like poison. "His bride is no better than he, a girl who forgets in a heartbeat her true friends and will abuse hew newfound power ere she has even grasped it. I knew them both, and I know what danger they are to the world of magic and our kind."

"I thank you for the warning." Godric said. "It will be passed on to my friends."

"No." Morgana shook her head. "Not a warning. I haven't the strength to seize Camelot on my own - magic fails me time and time again, for there is a…" she seemed to clear her head. "He is of no import, not compared to the power you and your companions are rumored to wield. I do not have the power to take Camelot from it's King, but you, and your companions, with use of magic and metal, coin and spells, you might take it."

"…you wish us to conquer Camelot for you?" Godric stared at her.

"For all magical folk." Morgana pressed. "Can we endure another Uther? Can those born to magic bear yet another tyrant on the throne of Camelot, one who will enforce old laws, murder children, make every Kingdom in Albion in terror of magic - "

"_Enough._" Godric said sharply. Morgana abated, though her gaze still burned at him. "Cousin, you know not what you say. We go to Camelot as invited guests, we are under the King's hospitality…"

"Cast a spell before him." Morgana said scornfully. "See how well the code of the hearth serves you then."

"And we cannot simply go about conquering kingdoms!" Godric finished. "Morgana, as much as I may feel for the plight of our kind, none of us desire to rule a Kingdom. It's significantly more work than any of us need."

"You would abandon your people." Morgana looked at him coldly.

"I have offered you shelter. My hollow is well protected by spell work, and it is outside the laws of Camelot, you would be safe."

"Unlike some, I cannot rest with my people dying."

That pricked Godric. "My Lady. None of us rest…"

"Then you wait, craven, behind your spell work, unwilling to take on the might of Camelot?" Morgana flung on him.

Godric's face darkened. "Craven is not a word I am used to being called."

"Then prove your worth. If you do not wish to rule, then subdue the people and put me as Monarch. The banner of the lion would be far preferable to seeing a species near extinct hover over us all."

"This is no decision I can make alone." Godric said helplessly. "And without seeing myself how Camelot's new ruler shall reign."

"Then observe Arthur for yourself. I invite you to see the supposed honor of Camelot." Morgana said, making to turn away. "But expect nothing more than feigned chivalry and incompetent servants."

"Are you sure that there is nothing I might do for you?" Godric called after her.

"Give me my home, safe again." She said over her shoulder. Godric watched her sweep away into the shadows, and listened to the sound of animals reclaiming the clearing for themselves. At long last he sighed and knelt, holding out a hand.

"Come here, little one. I doubt Salazar will want you slithering though the forest alone, and I intend to walk quickly." A snake wound it's way from behind a stone, a familiar grey-green animal that Godric was used to seeing coiled somewhere on the person of his best friend. Two bright black eyes seemed to wink up at him as the serpent coiled itself in Godric's hand.

* * *

"She wishes us to _what?_" Rowena said incredulously.

"I know." Godric lifted his hands. "I'm only her messenger."

"She must have the Pendragon proclivity for madness." muttered the black haired sorceress, starting to pace. They had all four retired to their chambers above the tavern, and were crowded into Rowena's room. "To suggest that we take control of Camelot is lunacy."

"Do you trust her?" Helga was sitting upon the straw stuffed pallet that passed for a bed, a final cup of warmed mead cradled in her hands.

"She is my kin." Godric said with a shrug.

"Bah." Salazar muttered. "When you last see her, before tonight?"

"When she was a girl of three." Godric admitted. "But her father was a good man."

"Not her true father." Salazar said. His snake was now draped across his shoulders, small enough that it could have coiled itself upon one. "Let's not forget from whose blood she springs. You are far too trusting of her, Godric."

"It's not as though she could harm any of us." Godric pointed out. "For pity's sake, I had an enchanted sword that I might have drawn on her in an instant, and a most venomous serpent waiting by her ankle. She is no threat."

"Do you think she spoke truth?" Helga asked.

"I don't see why she should lie."

"Power, powerful allies, a way for her to transport herself from hovel back to palace?" Salazar grumbled.

"She seemed passionate enough for the magical inhabitants of this land." Godric protested. "And for heaven's sakes, it's not as though I'm saying that we ought to ride into Camelot and curse Arthur Pendragon and his Queen."

"Good. That would be highest folly." Rowena said sharply. "We can no sooner afford to take Camelot by magic than we can afford to set fire to this inn. More harm than good would come of it."

"As you say." Godric smiled wryly. "You and Salazar are both against it then?"

"Helga gets a vote." Rowena pointed out.

"We'll be at Camelot on the morn." Helga said gently. "And there we can judge for ourselves the character of Arthur Pendragon. And if he proves to be as his father, then we will ride away as soon as politeness permits, and take with us any of magic we may find. Until such time as we are out of the world of humans entirely, we can scarce afford them as an enemy. And who knows, there may be friends at Camelot."

"Unlikely." Salazar said with a snort. "Godric, a question - she referenced dragons as only near extinct?"

"I suppose."

Salazar rolled his eyes. "It didn't occur to you to ask why she worded it thus?"

"I was a bit preoccupied with the fact that she wanted us to invade one of the most powerful kingdoms in Albion." Godric grumbled. "What of it?"

"Well, were she saying that the Pendragons were the only dragons neath the skies, that would be nothing of consequence. But a report of a _literal_ dragon who was free and roaming would be nice to know!" Salazar's voice was rarely raised, and it was always a bit alarming to hear it in a shout.

"Peace, both of you." Rowena cut in. "You may investigate Camelot itself for records that your serpents have powerful cousins still living, if any survived the purge I'm sure that Uther would have kept records of where they might be, if only to harbor dreams of hunting them down. It will give you something to do while the rest of us socialize. And Godric, the next time you are off to a secret meeting with a known convict, you might bring her back so the rest of us could speak to her."

"Apologies." Godric looked sheepish. "It did not occur to me."

"We know." Rowena's voice held some fondness.

"I believe we've all been up far too late after a long day's riding." Helga said gently. "I'd suggest we all retire."

"Before Godric does something yet more foolish." Salazar said, no cruelty in his voice, only some easy amusement as Godric mock-glared at him.

* * *

In Camelot, it was easy to forget what a great celebration was to be held next day. The warlock who looked over Camelot saw many lights on in homes, but no more than usual, and saw people walking in the streets, no drunker than usual.

"Merlin, would you get your lazy backside away from the window and help me?" He started at the sound of the King's voice. Merlin had thought he was alone in the room, and hadn't heard the King enter the royal chambers. "Have you even bothered to clean today?"

"Well, perhaps if I hadn't been clearing out half the old rooms in the palace all day, and spent the rest of it polishing your armor, I would have had time!" Merlin snapped back. His patience, ever more thin, was at the point of snapping. "So forgive me if there's some bloody dust on your precious table!"

"Someone's got their trousers in a wad." Arthur commented. Merlin sighed and moved to the King, sliding his jacket off his shoulder and taking the crown off him as well. He wondered if Arthur knew the way he always sighed in relief when the heavy weight left him.

"Long day." Merlin said shortly.

"Worth it though." Arthur tugged off his shirt himself, looking round his chambers for a fresh one. "Half the rulers of Albion will be coming to compete for my Queen's favor, and the other half wishing they were here."

"Hmm." Merlin made a noncommittal noise. "Your shirt is laid out on the bed. Just as it always is."

"Right." Arthur put it on, and picked up the flagon of wine on his table. He filled a glass and raised it. "To my continued long and happy union."

"You do realize I don't have a drink?" Arthur shrugged and downed his anyway. Merlin refilled it out of habit. "I hope you know how irate Gaius is going to be during all of this. He's stocked enough of his hangover potions to cure half the garrison, and he thinks he'll run out in the second day."

"It lasts only a week, Merlin." Arthur paused. "He's likely right."

"Isn't he always?" Merlin had heard Gaius's words so many times - _this is your own fault, why harbor false hopes, you knew it would happen_ - that he was almost immune to the old man's continual flood of wisdom. "Do you need an escort?"

"I can find my way to my wife's chambers on my own." Arthur said in some amusement. "Be waiting for me when I return."

"I always am." Merlin said, but Arthur was already walking out the door, in a fresh shirt. Merlin knew Gwen was in her own chambers, waiting for her husband, just as she was every night when Arthur went to her. "Always will be."

He spoke the words to an empty room. Merlin sighed, and began to clean the dust from under Arthur's bed. He knew he had time - Arthur never hurried his nuptials - and so he banked the fire with a wave of his hand.

Merlin regretted the actions moments later. He could have used some comfort from the heat of the flames, as none would be offered to him by way of a warm body. He was used to a near celibate life, given that the last time he'd a partner it had been Will, and Will was long since dead, but having to help his newly wedded King into bed each night had rather exacerbated his own loneliness.

_Do not begrudge them_. Merlin said to himself, a mantra he'd repeated to himself for so many years, he no longer remembered when he'd first had to think the words. _Let them find happiness in each other. It is no more than they deserve._

And yet…Merlin sat in Arthur's chair and cleaned the King's chambers by magic, and begrudged them.

* * *

The Queen's chambers were large. Too large, Gwen had always felt, when she cleaned in here - too large, too deserted, for no one but the occasional maid set foot in here while Igraine languished, and Catherine simply shared a bed with Uther.

Gwen would never blame her. The bed in the Queen's chambers was stuffed with swan feathers, no doubt, but it felt empty to her, and she often wondered how Igraine could stand it.

Perhaps, if a child were in the adjoining chamber…

"Good night." Arthur leaned over the bed, kissing her cheek. Gwen smiled as well as she could. She was naked beneath the sheets, and cold, wishing that the maids Arthur assigned her had properly banked her fire. She would get out of bed and do it herself, and perhaps clean herself off a bit as well, just as soon as her husband left her.

"Sleep well, my love." Gwen watched him leave. Arthur was always very handsome, in the after glow, with his hair mussed and his pretty blue eyes so distant. But he knew far less of how to be a husband than she knew of how to be a Queen.

It was to be expected, as both had never been trained for those particular roles. Gwen knew how to be a wife - her mother had died when she was twelve, shortly before Gwen went into Morgana's service - but there had never been a Queen for Gwen to watch, even from afar. And there had never been a marriage which Arthur was intimate with, he'd never seen his Father be tender with any woman.

Never before had Gwen so appreciated the gap left by Queen Igraine. She rolled over and tugged her sheets around her breasts, suddenly too weary to get up and bother with the fire. It was on the other side of these vast chambers, and to get to it she would need get up and walk in bare feet over freezing stone floors.

Sure enough, in minutes another door opened, and her maid scuttled in. Gwen closed her eyes and pretended to drowse as the girl swore softly at the state of the fire and began to fix it, until heat radiated toward Gwen.

Gwen kept listening, as the maid padded up to her bed and removed the nightgown from the floor where Arthur had tossed it. She'd done the same for Morgana, picking up the remnants of clothing on the floor when her mistress discarded them.

But this maid didn't bother to find her an extra blanket, or draw it gently over her. Gwen buried her head in her pillow as the maid left, leaving the room warm, while the heat drained from the blankets where her husband ought to have lain.

**A/N: I wrote this before the Season 5 premier aired, so it was originally intended to take place before those episodes, but I think it works post as well. **

**Review? Please? I haven't written in Merlin fandom in ages, I barely remember how, so concrit would rock.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I feel like I should actually add pairings to the summary. I'm going to go do that. Also, I love everyone who reviewed. Y'all don't know the depth of my love. It is very deep. **

**And omg last episode of Merlin I don't even know where the writers are going anymore. I just want Merlin to stop being so constantly sad and to become bros with Mordred and for Arthur to quit with this thing where he's super duper nice to Mordred and is all "he's saved me twice" when Merlin has saved your arse 0385740645 times and you don't lift him up and laughing during training Jesus Christ would it kill you to show that you care without it being a joke and also Colin Morgan's flawless acting is flawless and aaargh the whole vibrating life can't you feel it line I want to make dirty jokes and at the same time flail over how much I need a modern au where Merlin is an environmentalist who loves nature and has to guide Arthur's corporation to a greener future and your face sir, and was Gwaine on douche pills for this whole episode or what?**

***deep breath* I have a lot of emotions. But in general I didn't find this episode on the same level as the incredible quality the rest of s5 has been. And now I will stop.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own HP, don't own Merlin**

"So this is Camelot. I must admit, it does live up to the legends." Helga conceded. Her grey palfrey seemed just as impressed as she, craning its neck to peer round the bustling streets and the shining battlements. Helga had never seen such gorgeous white walls, nor such impregnable stone. This was a city that ought to be capable of withstanding years of siege.

It was little wonder that Godric's cousin had need of powerful magic to take it.

"Do you think it can bear a tourney?" Rowena said doubtfully. The two women were riding ahead of Salazar and Godric, who had been quite caught by the vendors and muggles. "The people seem raggedly dressed."

"The King ought to know what he's doing." Helga shook her head briskly, drinking in the smell of fresh washed bricks. "Be easy, Rowena. Not a person here knows anything about us. Godric is the only one who has even visited Camelot before, and as a child at that."

"I find would that more reassuring if I could not smell the paranoia in the air." Rowena steered her horse around a corner with her thighs. "It could not be clearer that the people are in terror, do you see their doors? Even the flimsiest have latches."

"You sound like Salazar. I could swear, the both of you see mobs where there are but peasants." Helga smiled gently and waved to a few little girls playing. They waved back enthusiastically. "You see? Harmless."

"Camelot is not what I would call harmless." Rowena said darkly. She sighed. "But I suppose you have a point when you say that the children are hardly threats to us."

She freed a hand from her reins and waved to the children. Their shouts of glee became even louder, and one even attempted a clumsy curtsy that had Rowena and Helga chuckling.

"I think that was even a worse curtsy than when Godric attempted to play a maid while drunk." Rowena said, giggling. Helga shoved her arm. "Oh I know. I'm unkind."

"Well, at least you're more comfortable in muggle streets than Salazar." They both glanced back. Godric was half a street behind, on his enormous black charger, halloing to the muggles while Salazar next to him twitched in the saddle. This part of the city was freshly cleaned, obviously, but it was a sight dirtier than the white towers, which almost glowed in the sunlight, and Rowena could almost feel Salazar's desire to charm the dirt off.

If she looked closely, she might even be able to see him stroking his serpentine friend for comfort. It likely helped that Godric was between he and the greater part of the muggles, and no doubt that had been their champion's intent.

"Well." Rowena let out a long exhale. "If nothing else, this will be an exercise in patience. How long until this road reaches the citadel?"

"I've no idea." Helga smiled ruefully. "I'm certain it was less crowded earlier in the day, when most nobles arrived.

"Be reasonable Helga. If we'd arrived earlier, we would have had to speak to those nobles."

"It is possible that avoiding them all for so long was a foolish idea, you know." Helga said. She tapped her horse's sides with her feet and shifted the mare into a trot. "Haven't a few sent you marriage proposals?"

"Lord Balin would not _dare_ bring that up at another man's feast." Rowena said flatly. "Not even that boor is so rude. If he even attempts it, Helga, I swear that this will be the day I curse him to a toad."

"Being a toad might improve the looks on that one." Helga muttered.

"And make him a far better prospect!" Rowena finished with a laugh. They turned another corner of the winding path, and came to the gates of the citadel. They'd been constructed of the same white stone that made the walls, and looked as impenetrable.

Helga herself thought that it was strange, having need of a wall between the royal classes and the peasantry who lived in the city. Then, she was the daughter of a baron from the valleys of Wales, who let the tenants sleep in his hall when winter winds swept through their huts. She was still wise enough to hold her tongue over that thought as they approached the courtyard itself, where the King and Queen of Camelot awaited the last of their guests.

"Why, they're lovely." Helga said. She heard the clatter as Godric and Salazar rode up next to them. "Does King Arthur look as he did while a toddler?"

"I've no idea. I was here a year before his birth, when Igraine was still alive." Godric surveyed the royal couple. The two were standing on the steps, as they likely had been for hours waiting to greet guests. "He has his mother's gentleness in those cheekbones."

"What about the petulant expression?" muttered Salazar. "You'd think someone had stuck a splinter in his backside."

"Be polite." Helga chided. "We are guests."

"Not until he greets us and offers us his hall, we're not." Salazar said. "It's not at all too late to turn back."

"From an adventure?" Godric grinned. Helga and Rowena both rolled their eyes.

"For an adventure, I can be the master of civility." Salazar said it with a slightly poisonous smile. "Particularly towards the sons of those who murder children."

"I can think of no one else towards whom civility is more necessary." Rowena said. "And no more talk of this until we are alone in my chambers." She threw Godric a significant look.

"Aye, m'lady."

"All three of you control yourselves." Helga said. She nudged her horse forward to fully enter the courtyard. A servant came hurrying up to take the reins, and Helga vaulted off her horse, casting the boy a smile.

She heard the thump of Godric's boots on the flagstones as he dismounted. Helga sank into a curtsy as the King and Queen descended from the steps.

"Your highness." She said, feeling it best to speak first, lest Salazar or Rowena add a tint of insolence.

"Welcome to Camelot." King Arthur gestured for them to rise. "We have not had guests from your houses in many years, it was a great pleasure to see that you accepted the invitation."

_We hardly had a choice, and you certainly know it._ "The city is as wondrous as the minstrels say, we would have been fools to turn down the summons." Helga bowed her head to the Queen. "Our congratulations on your anniversary, highness."

"Thank you." The Queen smiled graciously. Helga did not think the grace came without strain. Standing outside for hours in such heavy velvet brocade must have been vastly uncomfortable, she mused. Helga was again grateful that her father was a baron, and she had never had to greet visitors outside a warm hall. "But your journey has worn on you. We must let you retire to your rooms."

"And, should those rooms be subpar, I apologize." The King added. Helga's eyebrows rose. "We have had some problems with the servants of late."

"Well, with such elaborate preparations, I am hardly surprised." Rowena broke in. She curtsied again. "Your highnesses must excuse the reticence of our companions. Sir Godric and Salazar have had a longer ride."

"Ah, I had forgotten that you were a knight." The King's eyes pricked with a bit of interest. "Sir Godric, will you be competing in our tourney?"

"It will be my utmost pleasure." Godric grinned broadly. "I've heard stories about the prowess of the knights of Camelot. I'd like to see that they're worthy of the legend."

"I trust we will not disappoint." King Arthur glanced behind them. "Shall I fetch a servant to show you to your chambers?"

"Our thanks." Rowena curtsied again. "Our baggage mules are behind us."

"The bags will be brought to you." The King beckoned a younger girl from the other side of the courtyard. "Lead them their rooms. And if you should happen to see my manservant, bid him to attend on me."

"Yessir." The girl winced, and Helga wondered why.

* * *

Rowena, in all honesty, was not much impressed with Camelot's hospitality. Her room was marvelous, of course, a massive chamber with a high, arching ceiling and a beautiful view of the city. The bed was larger than any she had at her own castle, and certainly more comfortable than those she slept in while riding in the countryside.

But the sunset was sending orange splashes of light over her chamber floors, and no one had brought her baggage to her. Rowena let out a frustrated sigh as she looked over the city. She had bathed, of course, she insisted that the maids brought her a tub, but she'd been able to do nothing after but wrap herself in the clean sheets they'd given her and let the air dry her hair.

If no one brought her baggage soon, she'd need to either conjure her worn traveling dress into a suitable gown, or show up at the feast naked. She was at the moment favoring the option that was less likely to end with her burning at the stake.

Gods, life without magic was inconvenient. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in." Rowena called, hoping for a servant. It was only Godric. She sighed.

"No need to be so disappointed. I've just come to escort you down." Godric paused. "Are sheets the fashion in Camelot now?"

"I've begun to think that the peasants stole our mules." Rowena grumbled. She took in Godric. "You plan on wearing battle dress to the feast? Godric, that straddles the line between reasonable caution and paranoia."

"My luggage was not brought either." Godric laughed. "I was hoping it had somehow all gone to your room. Chain mail was all I had with me, and I think that as it's trimmed in red and gold, it looks dashing."

"I suppose the colors might flatter our hosts." Rowena paused. "I assume Salazar gave you this idea?"

"He came to my rooms to see if my things had arrived, as his were missing."

"Perhaps King Arthur understated things when he mentioned troubles with the servants." Rowena sniffed. "If the rest of his guests are being treated similarly, the next tourney Camelot holds will be poorly attended."

"This is Camelot, the lure of their knights will serve. And if we must, we can move to one of the taverns." Godric said.

"I am not giving up this bed." Rowena glanced back at it. "Is yours a four poster as well?"

"And stuffed with swan feathers." Godric grinned. "I can't wait to find a lass to warm the sheets."

"I believe the comfort of the bed might induce a few despite your appearance." Rowena mused. "I'd forgotten what a rich country Camelot has always been. They offer a thousand gold coins to the tourney's winner?"

"This is a tourney in honor of a man's new _wife._"

"A thousand, and jewelry for whomever's favor the knight holds then." Rowena sighed. "You're not having mine. The last time you bore one of my shawls, you tied it around your lance tip and tore the most expensive eastern silks I owned."

"It was a joust, how was I meant to protect it?! And it's not as though I didn't fix the thing."

"You've not seen your stitchery, Godric." Rowena lowered her voice. "That spell is hardly your expertise."

"There was hardly a difference!" Godric protested loudly.

"Shh." Rowena held up a hand. "Take Helga's favor. She doesn't mind sweaty handkerchiefs."

"I might as well take favor from Salazar." Godric grumbled.

"Godric!"

"He has fancier silks."

"And he'll roast you on a spit if you tear them. At least I contented myself with boils." Rowena laughed. Godric shook his head in insult. "We need to be to the feast. I'm simply going to wear my traveling dress."

"You'll dazzle the court ladies." Godric said confidently.

Rowena raised her eyes to the rafters. "Hold the sheet."

"Oh, er." They both froze at the creak of the door and accompanying voice.

"And you'd be?" Rowena asked sharply. There was a young man standing in the doorway, clearly not of the lording class. His red shirt was stained with sweat and of rough material, and she'd seen more well kept boots on children.

"I could come back later." He said quickly.

"You've my gowns?" The man nodded mutely.

"Bring those in, we've need of them. She's barely got a scrap of clothing." Godric said.

Rowena fought the urge to hit Godric's arm as the man eyed the two of them. Just because Godric had stopped in his ability to think of her as anything but a sister many years ago…

"_Uff_, here you go." The man staggered in under the weight of one of the trunks. Godric stepped forward, quickly taking the weight off him. In another second, the man was dragging another case in.

"Haven't you any help?" Rowena asked, honestly surprised.

"No, my lady." The man said, panting. "The rest are busy." He hefted another bag on his shoulder and let it fall at her bedside. "Lady Rowena, I believe?"

"Yes, and this is Sir Godric." Rowena felt sympathy stir in her breast. The boy looked like he had spent hours rushing through the castle. "You may leave the rest by the door, Godric will bring them in for me."

"Thank you, my lady." The man beamed at her. He had a smile like sunlight, Rowena noticed. Quite impressive for a man who'd carted all her clothing from the stables to this room. "Sir Godric, your things are in your chambers. I thought you'd gone down to the feast."

"Thank you, lad." Rowena managed to not roll her eyes. The man was taller than Godric, for heaven's sake. "Is chain mail acceptable wear?"

"Oh, half the knights will be in mail, I don't think they've the brains to dress in anything else." The man said offhandedly, already hurrying out the door. "You ought to blend right in."

Rowena and Godric both frowned.

"Did a servant just insult the central support of Camelot?"

"I'm not sure I'd like to blend in."

"Godric, would you…" Rowena took a deep breath. She would draw her conclusions about the status of common servants in Camelot when she'd seen more, though that easy insolence was strange. It wasn't a trait she'd seen in royal households before, at least not on the surface. "Hold the sheet."

"Gryffindor House does not simply blend in." Godric said from behind the sheet as Rowena donned a more appropriate robe. "Perhaps I should find myself some furs."

"Godric, I swear to you." Rowena pulled her dress down and adjusted it. Most of her wear was the deep blue of her house, and this dress was one of her most artful, trimmed all round with bronze threads and gemstones. "You will not be lost among the crowd, no matter how much some of us wish you would disappear."

And besides that, not even Godric was a good enough hunter that he could catch himself a bear pelt before the feast, regardless of what her friend's ego suggested.

"My thanks." Godric held out his arm. "Neither will you."

Rowena curtsied and took his arm. The feel of the cold steel beneath her fingers reminded her of danger. "Godric, I warn you, this is not the place to turn drunk. Salazar cannot brew you his potions, and blurting out secrets might kill us all."

"I will remember, Rowena." Godric sighed. "The Pendragons aren't likely to let any of us forget."

* * *

Helga Hufflepuff was worried. This was a state she was in far less often than one might think - she had a great deal of faith in the judgment of her friends, and trusted that even Godric could keep temper in check while in a place such as Camelot. She worried more for the feasting.

She paced back to her window and cast another look over the city. It was nearing sunset, and she had bathed and put back on her traveling wear, but the trunks with her finery hadn't yet arrived, and it was wearing on her. She was little accustomed to elaborate banquets as it was, let alone a feast attended by half the royalty in Albion.

Helga was not blind. She was well aware that she would be of the lesser nobles attending, and that making small talk with ladies whom she doubted she would see again was hardly her favored way to spend the evening. She had become used to dining without snide glances from richer queens.

The chamber door flew open with a bang. Helga jumped, magic in the tips of her fingers, ready to twist the wooden bedposts into trees and wrap them around her attacker's legs.

She could not actually see her attacker behind the leather bags heaped in his arms.

"M'lady." Came a muffled voice. "Where would you like these?"

"By the table." Helga said quickly. The bags were dumped there, revealing a tall young man. "Oh, you poor…"

He blinked at her as Helga hurried to the heart and grabbed the plateful of food some maid had left. "Sorry?"

"Here." Helga pressed the plate on him. "You look as if you're near collapse."

"Uh." The man took the food automatically. "I was only fulfilling my duties."

"Sit. If your duties are to ensure the happiness of the King's guests, then ease my mind by at least taking in a few bites." The man didn't sit, but he picked up a piece of fruit and nearly swallowed it whole. Helga watched with satisfaction.

"Thank you." The man said through his food. "Lady Hufflepuff?"

"Helga, it is far easier to say." She held out a hand. The man tried and failed completely in balancing the tray of food with his hands, and it ended up being half thrown onto the table so he could shake her hand.

"Merlin." He flashed her a grin.

Well, he was a looker. Helga sighed internally and wished that the rulings of fate hadn't decreed that all handsome men were muggles or rapscallions. Well, perhaps if they stayed here long enough…

"You look like you're about to collapse, won't you sit?" Helga asked.

"Oh no, I've other guests." He swallowed a chunk of fruit. "There's still a lord whose baggage hasn't reached him, I need to fetch it from the stables. Lord Slytherin, I believe."

"Salazar is still without fresh clothing?" Helga said slowly. "Merlin, I do hate to be rude, but you should find another servant to fix that situation. He tends to become prickly when not dressed."

"Bugger." Merlin put down the tray. "Thank you, Helga, but I've got to get on that then."

"Tell Salazar I don't want him eating you." Helga called after Merlin as he rushed out.

* * *

The muggle mishandling his bags managed to trip over his own feet before he'd fully entered the room. Salazar stared at him and deeply regretted allowing his companions to persuade him of the value of this tourney.

"Sorry!" The muggle scrambled up. Salazar watched coldly. "Your bags."

"I have eyes."

"The rest are outside your doors." The muggle rubbed his elbow. "I am sorry, but I have other duties. You'll have to carry them in yourself."

"You plan on making a guest of Camelot haul about his own bags because you've been tragically late in fulfilling the things for which you are paid?" Salazar asked icily. He dearly wished he had the freedom to curse this muggle.

The muggle shrugged in an insolent way. "Yes."

"I think your pretty face has caused your mind to rot." Salazar said slowly. He watched the servant's cheeks color. "You'll fetch my bags yourself, and do it with a smile."

Salazar turned away to look out the window over the filthy city, and listen to the man's footsteps as he retreated to fetch the other bags. There was a pause, boots scuffling on flagstones, and the door slammed.

Well. Salazar turned to look at the closed door. If he found himself in a good enough mood during this trip to condescend to complain to the damned King Arthur, he'd mention that man.

If not, well. He could settle his own scores easily enough.

**A/N: Seen 5x06 and lolnope, Elyan lives on this fic. But so quality. So quality. And so much Merthur/Morwen (I think thats the pairing name for Morgana/Gwen?) for an Arwen episode. Also my desire for Gwen's nightgown is neverending I don't even mind that someone was snuggling with Arthur who wasn't Merlin.**

**But on the other hand smh at the whole "villain in Camelot that nobody knows is a villain" plotline being done again. **

**Ps: Review?**


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